


That Big, Blue Pearl

by Happy_Cow



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alien Abduction, Bondage, Breeding Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Doggy Style, Dominant Kylo Ren, Drugged Sex, Enemas, F/M, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren is older than that in alien years, Naked Female Clothed Male, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Kylo Ren, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Poor Rey (Star Wars), Rape/Non-con Elements, Rey is 18, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29070972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happy_Cow/pseuds/Happy_Cow
Summary: For ten years on the job, it was just corn, cows, and even more corn. But he couldn't complain; Kylo Ren could think of no better way to make up for the things he's done. But when a mishap occurs, involving his favorite native, he's forced to improvise.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 21
Kudos: 109





	That Big, Blue Pearl

**Author's Note:**

> mmmooooo (I was going to post this on Wednesday but my Internet was spotty; sorry for the wait)  
> moo (Anyway, Happy 2021!! After scrolling thru NSFW Twitter, I got this hunger for cow-girl content, and this was what happened ;w;')  
> m-moo (as always pls let me know if you like it or if its terrible lol)

He imagined this job would be a lot more exciting.

FTL-travel, a colony posting, his own ship. Adventure, independence, _freedom_. He didn’t even mind the isolation; there wasn’t a word for it in his own language, but he was pretty sure now that he was ‘ _anti-social’_. Amongst his own kind, he was just _weird_ ; his entire life, he was just ‘ _fucking’_ _weird_. And now he could be weird, by himself, on this beautiful planet. All of that, wrapped up in that beautiful greater cause: _preserving the race_.

There were already fifty different colonies to choose from by the time Kylo was born the _Natural_ way (and he was infamous for it). _Earth_ , though. Earth was already one of the _Prime_ ones. Beautiful blue oceans, vast selection of ecosystems, trillions of different organisms, with a not-insignificant number of viable ones. It was Darth Vader’s favorite fucking colony. Some say he loved it _too_ much.

Like a billion other applicants, Kylo picked _that_ one as his first preference. He really shouldn’t have been able to get it since Master Luke ‘fucked up’ his training, and he had fought on the _wrong_ side of The War. But. He was Natural-born, and Vader was his Predecessor. No _Hoths_ for Leia Organa’s boy, and no backwater sand planets. ‘ _Shitton_ ’ of corn, though. 

Kylo knew there was so much more than corn on this planet, but he hadn’t seen those parts yet. As far as the eye could see, there were planes of corn, and maybe _soy_. And of course, _cows_. Sometimes he looked around, and wondered if _this_ was what Vader saw when he landed on earth. If he fell in love with all that corn. Then again, when postings were doled out by Armitage Hux, Kylo had a burning suspicion that that guy hated him for his connections. For all he knew, all the _good_ postings were given to Phasma, and Kylo was trapped in corn-country.

Once the alarm woke him up, the visual feed showed the sun hovering low over the sea of corn, sky going dark. He kicked up his heels onto the dashboard and fished around for a nozzle of class-2 amnesiacs lying on the floor somewhere besides the pilot’s seat. Helped to pass a slow day. It wasn’t meant for his kind, but in high enough doses, it still helped him to forget a _lot_ of things, at least for a little bit. 

An alert pinged inside the ship; happy-gas run out, due for a refill. Kylo winced; he kept forgetting about that warning for _weeks_. When and if he did refill it, hopefully nobody would ask him about it... Oh, but who was he _kidding_. Of course General Hux would ask about it. Kylo was _definitely_ looking forward to that interrogation... _not_. He would have to be extra _extra_ careful not to get caught. 

Kylo did his stretches in the pilot seat, swinging his arms and letting the nodes of his spine click into place. Just like the beginning of every other evening, he enjoyed an MRE for breakfast — a thin, pale brick, that when introduced to warm water, expanded into a rectangle of mush that would fulfill that day’s nutritional requirements. Already he felt that buzz of withdrawal at the back of his skull from lack of happy-gas. Latent memories prickled against his conscience. Time for an especially _depressing_ day of work.

In the middle of all that corn sat a rudimentary settlement, built from wood. A ‘farmhouse’. Inside this settlement resided a sample of the dominant species of this planet. They were charmingly _primitive: no_ space travel, _violently_ territorial, and _no_ observed capacity for the Force. 

Once he fulfilled his quota of cows, he could turn his attention to the humans. Observe them, document them, but _never_ to touch, in accordance with the Prime Directive. It was like homeworld’s holovids, or ‘television’: the humans each had their own distinct character. He even had a _favorite:_ a little brown haired female. Her sire called her _Rey_. Cute little thing. 

Right now, silence dominated the settlement. Plutt, the sire, sat inside, while light from the television flashed over his loose and nacreous skin. Kylo scanned the rest of the house for his _favorite_ , but the girl was nowhere to be found. This was to be expected, but still, a sour taste lingered in his mouth. 

He had _watched_ Rey grow up from an adorable youngling, to a ‘teenager’. He used to tease her when she was small; when the sire would lock her out of the house, Kylo would let her see the ship for a split-second before he went to work. Watch her adorable face go pale with shock. 

Humans grew up fast. Now she had _just_ reached the cusp of adulthood, and _sexual maturity_. At first, Kylo cheered her independence from her sire, but now he saw less and less of her. She stayed out at night, doing ‘God knows what’ with one of her young human males. He could only _imagine_ what activities she was up to, and it made his vision go red and his mouth wet. 

Humans were so primitive, that they had _only_ the _Natural_ way. Of course she would be _mating_ as much as possible, the little ‘ _slut_ ’. Rey didn’t put on all those short skirts or paint her mouth or do her hair up for _him_ , now did she? She didn’t even know he _existed_. If she did, she’d probably run screaming from the cornfields...

With a bittersweet smile, Kylo steered the ship towards work, his sole purpose in life and perhaps the purpose of _all_ living things: saving his race. The visual feed zipped across the blackness of the night sky, and then cut to cows standing in a field. ‘Saving the race’ was an easier job in the warmer seasons, when he didn’t need to figure out how to maneuver them out of a heated barn. 

Kylo scanned clusters of the herd, to see which cow had already been _used_. It didn’t do good to play favorites, or else the humans would notice something physiologically _off_ in one of the livestock. At last, he picked a fresh one. He placed the ship above it and then let the tractor beam’s crosshairs lock-onto it, before he pulled the trigger. In Darth’s time, there was no lock-on and you had to actually be good at aiming. One day, Kylo figured every part of his job would be automated. Then the _screaming_ began.

Kylo stared at the visual feed. In all of his years of abducting cows, he had heard a variety of bovine noises, but never that one. The noise cut short, but Kylo already aborted the tractor beam and zoomed out the visual feed. (The cow dropped from a height of ten feet in the air, but that was not his immediate concern.) On the map of the field below the ship, he saw three shapes huddled together, too _small_ to be cows. All three bundled into a vehicle, and it sped off across the field. 

Kylo stared at the visual feed for a second after, frozen in shock. “ _Aw fuck_ ,” he hissed.

He had already lost the car, and even if he hadn’t lost it in the first place, he wasn’t trained on the specifics of what to do in the _event_ of a car. He could _shoot_ it: his ship was equipped with a _vaporizer_ in case of emergencies, but that was only to be used as a _last resort_. It was a firable offense. Out of options, Kylo swung the ship back to the only settlement for miles around, and in that span of seconds, his time on earth flashed before his eyes. Rey grew up before his eyes.

When his eyes adjusted to the new visual feed, he was struck dumb with his own good fortune. Kylo Ren never registered this much luck. But as they say, ‘the Force works in mysterious ways’.

The car was there, parked right outside of that shabby wooden farmhouse. He performed a scan on the house. There stood the three figures, each wearing jackets against the night’s chill. He expanded the visual feed until their faces took up the entire wall of the ship. “ _Found you_ ,” he hummed, as he recognized his _favorite_ , the brown-haired girl. But what was this? This time, there were _both_ of her males with her: the Finn, and Poe Dameron. 

They stood on the ‘porch’ of the house, and their lips moved. They were talking, animatedly. The whites of Finn’s eyes almost glowed in his face, and Poe kept shaking his head. But his Rey was _smiling_. She was _excited_. Slowly, Kylo began to smile with her, sadly. What a shame. He reached for the nozzle of class-2 amnesiacs, and then he was struck with the _remembering_. The end of the nozzle clanked as it hit the floor. _No more amnesiacs._

Soldier’s instinct: his feelers extended towards the controls for the vaporizer. It would be so _easy_ , so _quick_ and _painless_. The Prime Directive allowed them this mercy. But what stopped him? He made the mistake of glancing up at the visual feed. The crosshairs hovered exactly on the female’s smiling face. He could destroy the _others_ , but something inside of him _balked_ at erasing her. 

... The _others_ were expendable. He just needed to separate them, so he could take a better shot. The males clustered too closely around the female, and he didn’t want to take that risk. Most likely, Rey would go in the house, and the two males would leave by the car, so at some point he could vaporize the entire car and leave no evidence. It was a plan, at least. But then the front door of the house opened.

Immediately, Rey’s exuberance transformed into fear. Her sire, Plutt, brought out a rifle to meet the two unwelcome males on his doorstep, and he was screaming at them to get lost. Humans: _Primitive_. _Territorial_. Kylo moved the ship closer.

The patriarch swelled with increasing belligerence as he shoved the barrel of the rifle into the males’ faces. Then Rey tried to wrest the gun away from her sire. A scuffle. Plutt whipped the butt of the rifle across her face, and she fell. It was a clear enough shot, and Kylo took it. 

While he aligned the second shot to Poe’s back, the sound of screaming crackled in his ears. The two males had now turned, and by now it wasn’t worth the energy to activate the ship’s camouflage mode. The vaporizer needed a few seconds to recharge. 

The males ran inside the house, making his job _slightly_ more complicated. A vaporized house left evidence behind: a ton of displaced ash, plumbing, the remains of a septic tank. The humans would question how a whole entire house went missing, along with four individuals. His feeler fell away from the vaporizer.

In that moment, the girl stumbled to her feet, and she turned as if to follow the males into the house. But Kylo was faster. The visual feed flashed in a burst of light. At first, he couldn’t see it; he’d thought he’d missed, and his teeth ground in frustration. Then a sound grazed his inner ears: shrill, sweet cries, of the non-bovine variety. The tractor beam caught her. He _caught her_. 

Kylo stumbled up from the pilot seat, like a newborn luggabeast. His foot hit the nozzle of amnesiacs, and he kicked it aside so it hit the wall of the ship with a loud bang. Wouldn’t want to trip on that later.

Once again, Kylo understood that his ship was not built for the study of humans, but for the sole purpose of tagging and impregnating cows. He sorely felt the lack of amnesiacs, or a horizontal surgery table with which to strap a human in. It was at this point that the males began to shout from the porch of the house. Kylo saw them on the visual feed, gazing up in horror as the tractor beam took their female away. Before they could consider a rescue attempt, Kylo veered the ship five miles away, over a darkened field of soy. The female twisted helplessly in the grip of the tractor beam and emitted a low keening sound.

The floor of the ship opened. Sometimes, cows would faint or go into cardiac arrest upon abduction; whatever the case, the ship’s computer would attempt to keep the cow right-side-up and tag it. The female floated _up_ into the center of the ship, with her back pointed towards the ceiling. Her head swiveled this way and that, and she began to thrash her limbs, trying to ‘swim’ out of the containment field but failing. Kylo suppressed a low chuckle. He stood at the perimeter of the containment field, waiting for the automated segment of the processing system to end. Nothing he could do to stop it. 

The ship’s computer detected a barrier separating the tagger from the cow’s hide. A laser descended from the ceiling, and it indiscriminately stripped her of her garments: coat, jeans, shirt, underwear, panties. Interestingly enough, the ties in her hair were left alone. Mouse droids slid out of the walls and sucked up all the ash underneath her. 

She crossed her arms over her exposed breasts. When the tagger descended from the ceiling, she thrashed her legs about, trying to kick it away. Kylo winced at this new round of screaming, and he rubbed at his ears in sympathy. But from where he stood, he enjoyed an _interesting_ angle, in this pitched battle between naked human female versus automated laser. That _interest_ extended between his legs, and it thickened against his thigh. Suddenly, his uniform felt hot, _restrictive_. His tongue darted over his lower lip.

The ship’s computer processed this difficulty, and it made the logical determination that Kylo Ren had selected a _feisty_ cow. An alert blared accusingly in his ears: _Target is uncooperative. Pacify target_. The containment field dropped, and so did the female. She cried as she hit the floor of the ship. He cooed in sympathy.

Kylo was not trained in how to deal with this situation without amnesiacs or a vaporizer. Still, he felt surprisingly calm, and mostly bemused; from what he’d seen on television, he wasn’t the first of his kind to face this conundrum. He hunched his shoulders to make himself look non-threatening, and he made soft sounds at her. Beyond that, he had no idea of what to _fucking_ do. Hopefully, she liked mushy MREs; maybe he could feed her until he gained her trust, and then they could be friends.

But when Rey set eyes on him, her eyes got big and she began to scream _no, no get away from me_. She paddled backwards on the floor, for some reason still covering her meager breasts with her arm. Again: so _primitive_. Kylo may have been _born_ the Natural way, but he was fed the same way as every other member of his kind, through a formula pumped through a tube. He had an idea: he reached into the Force and extended himself towards her. Just simple thoughts _: I mean you no harm, I come in peace_. The human shuddered suddenly, and twisted this way and that, looking for the source of the voice. Kylo sent her the thought again; he stood one step away from grabbing her ankle. She turned to face him, when her mouth twisted in a snarl. He steeled himself for more screaming, but instead he heard,

**_MONSTER_ **

Now Kylo clutched at his ears. Before she could scrabble away, he grabbed her just in time. As he pulled her foot out from under her, she managed a small squeal before her jaw smacked against the floor. Kylo tried to be diplomatic about this, _again_ , but the human kicked and wailed, and _pierced_ into him through the Force. Unwanted memories bled out, tortured and torturer’s past: childhood images and countless faces with tongues and secrets pulled out of them, pulled out of _him_. All at once, he’d had _enough_.

He waved his feelers over her, only this time he sent a command through the Force. She went limp, to his relief. For now.

This ship was not equipped for the study of humans. When he grabbed her around her ribcage, he was at a loss with what to do, and where to put her. His mind still reeled from what had just happened, what the human had _done_ to him. Humans were not Force-sensitive; there was no unifying collective mind. This was why the Prime Directive unanimously opposed making official contact. This human clearly _defied_ that conclusion, or appeared to. A muscle in his jaw worked; he had tried to be diplomatic, and this human _attacked_ him, and saw things she shouldn’t have been able to see. Kylo desperately needed to perform more research.

Now that the ‘cow’ was adequately pacified, the ship strongly urged him to continue _processing_. The tagger swiveled towards him; per protocol, Kylo retrieved his protective helmet and slipped it over his face. He tucked the human’s ribcage beneath his right arm, and he slid his left feeler against the inside of her thigh to hold her in place. He proffered _this_ leg to the waiting laser.

The tag was invisible to the human eye and to their primitive technology, but when he closed his second eyelid, he could see a string of characters running along the side of her thigh. A masculine pride swelled in his chest, and he couldn’t help but smile, even as the poor thing whimpered and twitched. The tag contained a unique identifying code, and then right there was his _name_. 

Affectionately, he slapped her branded thigh, making her flinch. Already he could feel her conscious struggling to surface, prickling at the back of his mind and trying to pry him for weakness. This human was clearly more than he had ever expected. He could not stop smiling; in his ten or so years on this planet, he had never felt so excited before.

The tagger withdrew into the ceiling, which signaled the start of the sole purpose of cow-processing and this ship and colonization, that _greater cause_. Kylo had always figured that this was some sort of penance: for all the lives he’d taken, he could now sow new life into the universe. He felt almost embarrassed using it for this purpose.

A table for a small cow assembled in the middle of the ship. It vaguely resembled those ‘balance beams’ he had seen on television, for ‘women’s gymnastics’. Kylo felt almost sorry for the human as he positioned her onto it: head down, butt facing upwards. Her small breasts hung on either side; it looked uncomfortable, but the material of the table molded to support the shape of her stomach and her ribcage. Her limbs dangled loosely on at her sides. So small, compared to him. He liked the shapes of each of her limbs and her toned body, like some pretty ungulate.

Prime Directive put humans off-limits. Humans placed just above The Threshold; they were, just _barely_ , sapient- _enough._ They could feel pain, they had _feelings_ , and they could use tools. What he was doing would not only get him fired; he might be placed in exile for a few years. Still, Skywalkers liked their privacy. And whatever they could do to him wouldn’t erase that brand from the girl’s thigh. She called him a **_monster_** ; she knew _exactly_ what he was.

Sensors in the table measured her weight and heartrate, which pulsed on a screen in front of a console that emerged beside the table. The human managed to open one eye, and it followed him dourly while he went to the console to adjust and consent to the inseminator’s suggested dosages. A blocky white headset hung off the side of the console; once he adjusted the straps, he fit it over the head of the human, blocking out her eyes, and he locked the worn polymer bit in her mouth so she wouldn’t bite her tongue. Two small earbuds inserted into her ear canals. On the other side of the eyepiece was a virtual reality of a wide and sunny plane of grass that stretched as far as the eye can see, with other cows standing and mooing reassuringly in the distance. A standard practice of keeping the livestock calm. No idea what it would do for the human; when the headset activated, she emitted her own disparate lowing sound.

“I _know_ ,” he cooed in sympathy. He walked behind her and slid his feeler reassuringly over the fleshy curve of her bottom. “You’re so _scared_ , now. You’ve pried into things you _shouldn’t_ have.”

A table slid out of the wall, and on it was a set of tools for the purpose of probing and prepping. Not quite the tools of torture he once wielded, but some looked familiar. There was a roll of utility tape to secure a bovine tail. While he rolled the tools over, he noticed the female’s feelers were crawling up the table and towards her headset. He was surprised; he was unused to this much resistance: cows didn’t have ‘hands’ and opposable thumbs. One of the earbuds clinked against the floor. Now she struggled to pry off the bit locked around her mouth, but he wasn’t too worried.

The ceiling opened and he dodged a soft probe that swung down from a thick hose. It wouldn’t have hurt, but he still wouldn’t have appreciated it hitting him in the face. Instead, he caught the probe and tugged it towards the female’s bottom. He squeezed lubricant jelly over her buttocks and massaged it over and around her bottom. _Ha_ , breathed the female. Her thighs bunched, squeezing the balance beam. Kylo spread her buttocks and stared dubiously at the opening that the soft probe would enter. The rosy bud flinched as he circled it with lubricant, and the female released another sharp breath. Her hips twitched. He generously lubricated the probe, too.

“You like that, don’t you?” he hummed at her. Mammals responded well to the jelly. “This is going to make you feel even _better_.” He had no idea how good his English was; the only sure way to communicate was through the Force, and he wasn’t willing to try _that_ again. He coated one of his feelers and pushed it into the hole, working it back and forth, and despite her squirming, he found her receptive enough for the soft probe. He even _smelled_ the evidence of her receptiveness.

Kylo removed his feeler and pushed in the soft probe in its place. Tight fit; the muscles in her back bunched and she hunched her shoulders, breathing fitfully through her nose. He smoothed his palm along her back and her lathered flank. He readjusted the rectal probe, making sure it was anchored. Then he grabbed the hose in one feeler and squeezed the flesh of her buttocks in the other, making her squeak. The ship accepted it, and the hose began to thicken. Much easier to administer drugs this way; no teeth to bite at the tubing, and no thick needles to pierce the hide of the animal. Kylo was pretty sure he adjusted the dosage and volume to account for her size; he wouldn’t want her stomach to burst. The female _screamed_ against the bit and saliva dripped down. She clawed helplessly at the balance beam and tried to reach her hands behind her, trying to rip out the tube. Kylo grasped her little hand and he held it in his long feelers, squeezing gently so she knew that he was right there.

The rigidity of her spine began to melt, and her grip around his feeler started to flutter. The sedatives pumped into her were working quickly to drain the fight out of her, and make her receptive to what comes next. Her head swiveled this way and that; he knew she was trying to look at him in her peripheral, but if anything, she looked like a disoriented little animal. He squeezed her hand in reassurance and sympathy. Then he had an idea: he took the roll of utility tape from the table and pulled out a strip, before winding it around her wrists behind her back, so that she was ‘trussed up’, like a criminal in a ‘Western’. _There_. Now she wouldn’t hurt herself.

Kylo set the remaining tape down and he picked the thinnest of the vaginal probes on the table. Thick ribbons of lubricant dripped down from her buttocks to her mons. The steady pumping of the hose made her twitch, as if she were humping the balance beam, and maybe she was; it was one of the drugs being pumped into her. He understood that humans hadn’t invented a female counterpart to their ‘Viagra’, and he clucked his tongue in sympathy: so _primitive_. Kylo imagined he could make Rey a lot _happier_ than any male of her species, even the Finn and Poe combined.

Normally Kylo would have lubricated his arm up to his elbow, but as he looked at this female, he realized that even one feeler would be a tight fit, not to mention the smallest vaginal probe. He didn’t even want to think about the inseminator just yet.

He slid his feelers up her slicked thighs, and then fit them between her sex and the balance beam. The lips were protected by a thick down, sticky with lubricant and puffy from all of the chemical aphrodisiacs getting pumped into her small intestines. Slowly he rocked the heel of his palm against it, and pried open the lips with his feelers. The female gave a shrill whimper and she began to buck her hips. The rectal tubing jostled and he pushed it away from his face; he wasn’t sure if she was trying to dislodge him or get him to rub her off faster, but he preferred to think it was the latter. He rubbed her lathered thigh. _That’s right_ , he mouthed reassuringly, _I’m just a big ol’ bull_. 

Between his feelers, he fitted the thin vaginal probe inside of her. He had thought that there was enough lubricant and slick in the proximity of the opening, but he kept taking for granted that she was not a cow. Rey braced herself against the table and cried as the probe pushed inside of her. Kylo took a class on the biology of humans – a rudimentary one, at that – and he was struck with cold _horror_ at how much _resistance_ the probe met. He pushed it in slowly, bit by bit. He didn’t imagine that humans could be so _small_ and he feared that the probe had _ripped_ her. The probe only gave a thin beep to indicate that she was ready, and when Kylo pulled it out, his vision doubled: the top of the probe was coated with blood.

He was so shocked, that when the ceiling opened, the tube of the inseminator almost _slammed_ into the side of his head. _This_ part hadn’t changed since the time of Darth Vader; after millennia of warfare, the Natural Way was dying out, and each succeeding generation required lower species to incubate and birth the next. In the hull of the ship lay the seed that would save his race. A noble sentiment. The _noblest_ of sentiments! And Kylo was one of the best. In his ten years on earth, Kylo had only seen a dozen cows die at his hands, and most of them from heart attacks. It was nothing to be proud of, but he knew that it was far better than Phasma’s track record.

Kylo drenched one of his feelers in lubricant. He did not wholly believe the read-out from the vaginal probe. Cooing softly though his mouth, he gripped one of Rey’s thighs, and he eased the feeler into her opening. The sensation overwhelmed him. It reduced his intelligent thought into one-word blips. _Tight, hot._ His breath, sharp and coppery in his mouth.

Kylo couldn’t imagine fitting the inseminator in this tight of an opening. He wiggled his feeler inside of her, hoping to widen her. Of all things, her walls squeezed _tighter_ around him. The female tossed her head, the muscles in her back glistening with sweat. He felt around for perforations, encouraged by Rey’s receptiveness. His guard lowered, and he felt a wave of pleasure and fear and confusion wash over him. She had never laid with a male before. As he pulled out, he felt like he was resisting her; it felt like her body wanted this, wanted _him_. The tip of his feeler glistened with blood, but this time he wasn’t afraid. He had broken her ‘hymen’; he had been her ‘first’. A smile crawled up his face.

He unsealed his uniform at the apex of his thighs, and he grabbed himself. Did he ever really have an interest in the greater good?

Kylo gripped her buttocks and he draped himself over her form. He tucked his face beside the perfect shell of her ear. _I’m just a big old bull_ , he told her. His breath stirred loose strands of hair behind her ear, which tickled his face. _I’m just a big old bull_ , he told her, before pushing inside of her.

The Natural Way. The Natural Way made him clench his ass, made his breath stutter, made his teeth crack together. The Natural Way was the way of animals and the lesser races, it was primitive and messy, and it was like nothing he had ever felt before. Better than toys and his own feelers. Greedily he pawed at her shoulders and her tits and her round belly – symptom of the anal probe. Its tube now pressed against his own stomach, a minor inconvenience. His tongue slipped out of his mouth and lathed across her shoulder blades, tasting the salt of her skin – the instincts of a long-dormant animal.

Fear and pain shot through him through the Force, which he shut off like a valve. He drew his hips back slowly, excruciatingly, and then slammed it back into her, making her body jump on the table. His back hurt with the surprising effort it took not to cum; he wanted to keep on ‘riding’ her, his mate. His waist smacked into her bottom in a debased way. To his utter delight, her toes curled and her shoulders sank. She was enjoying this. He didn’t need the Force to know that she was enjoying him, too.

Froth dripped down from the bit and onto the floor in little white spots. At the back of his mind, he could hear a dull whining from the ship’s computer: the inseminator wasn’t inserted, and the ‘cow’ was thrashing unacceptably, or more likely from all of their love-making. Kylo was beyond caring; with a groan, he released his _own_ seed into _his_ chosen mate. His load filled her up, and the excess spilled hot out of her wet cunt and dripped down his testicles and onto the floor. Aftershocks of pleasure washed over him as he thrust his hips into her, until she had squeezed every last drop from his limp member. As he cleaned himself, he realized that he now stood in the same circle as Darth Vader, his Predecessor. He claimed a human and he bred her.

As for his mate, she laid bonelessly on the inseminating table, cum still dripping from her bottom, her stomach swollen from the rectal drugs. Kylo pinched the end of the rectal probe and tugged it out of her, with a wet sound. As he pulled her off the table and held her upright in his arms, the contents of her intestines released onto the floor. Her stomach slowly flattened to its original shape against his own body. It had been so long since Kylo felt the touch of another sapient being.

His kind and civilization were wholly immersed in the Force; they touched with minds and not with their bodies. The weight of the female’s body, as she leaned against him for support, overwhelmed his senses. With his feelers, Kylo stroked her back and the sides of her arms, murmuring softly in her ears while she slowly began to cry.

Well. He had always wanted a pet.


End file.
